We are ushered into the Oval Office. President Nixon has redecorated. There is a Gilbert Stuart portrait of George Washington, a huge desk that he believes had once belong to Woodrow Wilson, a royal blue rug with the presidential seal, and so much blazing gold in the draperies and on the sofas and chairs that Jamie, my eight-year-old son, complains the color is hurting his eyes. We are in one of the world’s most famous rooms. But it is not a setting in which a stranger will feel comfortable or be unimpressed.

We are there because I am leaving the government and the President has invited my family to the White House to say goodbye. It is late afternoon, the President’s last appointment before leaving for Ottawa and a meeting with the Canadian prime minister.

Nixon gives little gifts, things with a presidential seal, repeats jokes he has told many times, and tries small talk. This is not what he does best.

“What is your favorite subject in school?” the President asks ten-year-old Charles.

“Geography,” Charles replies.

“That was my favorite too!” says the suddenly animated President.

He now takes Charles on a tour around the perimeter of the Oval Office. He wants to show off his treasures from other countries. There is a bonsai tree from China!

The military aide is anxious, our appointment is longer than scheduled. The helicopter is on the south lawn waiting to take off for Andrews.